A name
by 83kg-seconds-for-Tuesday
Summary: a short dumb theory of how the name Cinderella came to be.


Once upon a time in another fairy tale place no one can find on a map, there was a man and his mansion full of servants. He was neither filthy rich nor down the dumps poor. Just about right. And a kind, sweet lady that lived there before she died was his wife, and like many fairy tales, a mother dies and left her child young behind. And that child's name was Petunia.

The man married again to another lady. Her name was stepmother.

Petunia grew up hard-working under the stepmother and her father and a house full of servants' guidance and so did her two stepsisters. They were not much different from each other now until the adjective evil was put in front of every word starting with step.

They cleaned, climbed trees to pick apples and whatever else little girls do, until it was decided that they all greet the old lady down the street called Mrs. Grummplefr and her husband Pida.

Mrs. Grummplefr was a nice old lady, a little funny, a little forgetful, a little blind here, and a little deaf here. She was a plump old lady always drinking tea at tea time and doing either ridiculous or very courteous doings. Pida on the other hand, did know any thing about status and treated everyone the same, like his brother, sometime mean, sometime happy, sometime ignoring you, just like his brother. Pida was a skinny tall man that lived in the kitchen and stable doing most of the house work, as his wife was busy having tea and helping repair his pants. They did have a house full of servants, not even one.

Well anyhow. the three girls stood and waited at the front door with a big brown bag, until Pida opened it for them.

They were just in time for tea time. how wonderful.

"Ohh. . . gerl scoouks cookeyss. . . ? yah're jus' n' thime fork's tee" smiled Pida, a crooked teeth smile as crooked teeth smile meaning he should have gone to a dentist a long decades ago, not that his smile was crooked ad with teeth. Pida had also not known he said something yet to be invented, but he's old and doesn't remember to know any better than the three confused girls.

"My Darwing, stewmather's gress cane" called Pida, running back into the kitchen quickly and out of sight. One of the stepsisters closed the door, the oldest among them. Petunia and the youngest among them stared at the dullen floral wallpaper and wondered what that old people smell was. Then a rich booming voice called them inside.

"COme in children. The tea is DROpping temperature as you are not drinking Them"

They followed the voice, and entered a room with a large window and yet another invention yet to be invented or two, a lamp with a lightbulb. The window hung heavy tapestry of kings, knights and dragons and other great deeds. in the color of violet. Fat, comfy chairs sat around a small table with trays of cookies, hard candy, and tea plus the other teaish things in which each little girl settled themselves into.

The oldest sat in chair with very high arm rests and a big but, that her arms and feet stuck out of the lime-patterned monster if she sat all the way in.

Petunia, the middle, sat in one that smelled like dirt and sunflowers, but merely because the dirt and sunflowers were still there, as well as a bird's nest in which a feather hanging out kept poking her in the eye.

And the youngest had to moved a tabby cat off a gray couch to sit before the tabby cat just jumped back on the gray couch.

And Mrs. Grummplefr herself, marched around like a military men and sipping her tea like a very proper lady. The oldest passed around a cup of tea each to Petunia, her sister and herself.

"Let me see...!" shouted Mrs. Grummplefr, marching up to Petunia, who merely almost spitted out her tea and dropped her half full/ empty teacup to the carpet. Petunia just almost choked, gulping down her tea instead. Mrs. Grummplefr had a eyepiece held right in front of the little girl's face.

"You are. . . " said Mrs. Grummplefr.

"Cind---" said the old lady, happily guessing from her memory of what the stepmother's letter of them being invited to Mrs. Grummplefr's house. Petunia frowned. "--er---Ella?"

Petunia frowned even more.

"nat Cinderella? umph. . . " said Pida, bringing in a tray of pills, another invention yet to be invented for Mrs. Grummplefr's medication. Then dashing off like a phantom into the apple cedar by the sound of rats.

"my name's Petunia!" cried the middle child.

"And my name is Cindy" corrected the oldest very informative and proper.

"And I'm Ella" said the youngest.

And then after a few visits or so of Mrs. Grummplefr and her husband Pida, and Mrs. Grummplefr incorrectly calling Petuina's name from across the street. The nickname stuck to Petunia and we all now know what it is.

The nickname was Cinderella.


End file.
